Making Historical Connections

I once let a weeklong seminar for High School social studies teachers who were preparing to teach Advanced Placement American history courses. I encouraged them—some of them first timers, some of them veterans—to weave questions about race, class, and gender into the fabric of their courses. At one point a young man raised his hand and said, "If I spend so much time talking about race, class, and gender, when am I ever going to talk about the really important stuff?" I don't believe there is any "really important stuff" that is not fundamentally shaped by questions concerning difference, perspective, and the varied experiences of our country's citizens. The Civil War is the perfect example of this. To me, the political developments and even the battles are far more significant when we ask what they meant to different Americans. I hope my book The Civil War: A History in Documents (Oxford, 2001) can help teachers to integrate this kind of questioning into their classes.

Examining how different people experience an era is not simply an end in itself, but is directly related to the major goals that I see historical inquiry serving. In my book, I chose documents and presented them with these goals in mind. First, I wanted students to learn about what happened during the war and the years just before and after it. Second, I wanted students to feel an emotional connection to the past. Third, and most importantly, I wanted them to learn to ask the kinds of questions that will make them better students not only of American history, but also of their own lives and the world around them.

The first goal was, of course, the easiest. Almost anything I chose would help students learn about what happened. There were certain texts that I knew they would come across in their textbooks and I wanted them to see the actual words—for instance, parts of the Lincoln-Douglas debates or the Emancipation Proclamation. On the other hand, there are other events that tend to get underplayed in textbooks that I wanted to cover in some detail—for instance, the terrible violence of the New York City Draft Riots of 1863. Most importantly, I wanted young people to see "what happened" in context, not as isolated events. I wanted to help them see causes and effects, to connect the dots rather than memorize a time line. Political decisions and famous speeches are surrounded by the words and ideas of ordinary Americans so that students can understand the relationship between them. Lincoln's first inaugural speech is preceded by several letters from ordinary Northerners and Southerners that demonstrate how intensely Americans of all sorts experienced the 1860 election. As students read the wide variety of documents, I hope they will begin to think about not only what happened, but also why things happened the way they did.

I wanted students not only to find out what happened, but also to care . In my efforts to reach them on an emotional level, I was helped greatly by the inherent drama of the Civil War. By allowing the voices of "regular people" to dominate the book, I hoped to help readers start to think about what it might have been like to live through that tumultuous era. While I would not want students to limit their historical inquiries to that question, I do think it's a great place to start. When students read a widow's diary entries about the day Sherman's army marched through her plantation and destroyed it, or a child's correspondence with her soldier father, or a black woman's deposition about the death of her daughter in the 1866 Memphis race riot, they can't help having an emotional reaction. The key then is to tap into that reaction and use it to foster their desire to have a more complete understanding.

The trick to moving students beyond the emotional response to a more analytical one is teaching them how to ask good questions. It's tempting to look at a primary document and see it as "the truth," because it is "authentic." But of course documents—letters, diaries, newspaper articles, pictures—all put forward only one perspective, one argument, one truth. In selecting documents that directly oppose each other (Northern and Southern opinions, white and black perspectives, soldier and civilian experiences), I tried to make it impossible to accept one document as the answer. Teachers can help students become more sophisticated readers by asking them to think about a series of questions when they analyze a document. Who was the intended audience and how might that affect the text? What was the author's motivation or purpose in writing? Is there an implicit message embedded in the explicit argument? What assumptions did the author make? What is the context? What do you know about the author and how might the details of his or her life affect your reading?

When students become proficient at analyzing primary documents on their own, they are better equipped to understand professional historians' arguments. I was in college before I realized that historians disagree with each other about many aspects of our country's past. One of the most empowering skills a teacher can impart to students is the ability and the confidence to ask themselves how and why a certain author reached her conclusions. Understanding how to analyze primary sources—the building blocks of every historical inquiry—is a major step forward.

Perhaps the best way to demonstrate how each of these goals can be met is to look specifically at one of the documents. When I taught history at the college level, I often began a class discussion by reading a primary document and then asking the students what they learned about the time period from it. With some help, they could tease out quite a lot of important themes on which I would then elaborate. One of my favorites is a letter from 11-year-old Grace Bedell to Abraham Lincoln in 1860. At first it seems simply amusing, but in fact it reveals quite a lot about the political culture of the time.

Oct 15, 1860 Hon A B Lincoln Dear Sir My father has just [come] home from the fair and brought home your picture and Mr. [Hannibal] Hamlin's [Lincoln's running mate.] I am a little girl only eleven years old, but want you should be President of the United States very much so I hope you won't think me very bold to write to such a great man as you are. Have you any little girls about as large as I am if so give them my love and tell her to write to me if you cannot answer this letter. I have got 4 brother's and part of them will vote for you any way and if you will let your whiskers grow I will try and get the rest of them to vote for you[.] [Y]ou would look a great deal better for your face is so thin. All the ladies like whiskers and they would tease their husband's to vote for you and if I was a man I would vote for you to but I will try and get every one to vote for you that I can I think that rail fence around your picture makes it look very pretty. I have got a little baby sister she is nine weeks old and is just as cunning as can be. When you direct your letter dir[e]ct to Grace Bedell Westfield Chatauqe County New York I must not write any more answer this letter right off. Good bye. Grace Bedell

Most obviously, it is fun for students to learn about this girl and the letter that she wrote. (Lincoln received several suggestions that he grow some facial hair, but this is the most famous one.) What is fun for teachers, though, is to capture that moment and, perhaps with a little prodding, get students to think about what this letter teaches us. Why did the father choose this particular present to bring his daughter from the fair? What does her reaction tell us? How different might a letter from her brother have been? They can begin to piece together some important aspects of mid-19th-century Northern political culture. Party politics was central to people's lives. It was a form of entertainment and, at the same time, it was taken extremely seriously. Families discussed politics together and even the youngest were often well informed about the issues of the day. And, although women did not have the vote, they did see an important role for themselves in their ability to influence the men in their lives, as echoed by this child. This document can reach students—it tickles their funny bones, but it also seamlessly integrates gender analysis into "regular" history. With a little guidance, they can start to become astute readers and confident analysts of the historical record.

Teachers, historians, and librarians all share the desire to wake students up to the realization that history is about stories, drama, and human nature. We want them to see that, although it may not predict the future, history can certainly help us understand our present. Primary documents are the best way to help students see the past through the eyes of those who lived it. If presented with the right documents, they can't help but be touched. And if that energy is then guided toward analysis, they will learn to see not only the past, but also the present with more critical eyes. The types of questions that I want students to ask about historical documents apply to the television advertisements, political speeches, and Web-site content that they encounter on a daily basis. Gathering evidence, comparing different perspectives, thinking for themselves—I hope my book and others can help them practice these skills that they need to navigate their own world, as well as the world of the past, with open eyes and sharp minds.